


A Matter Of Trust

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly goes to a club and despite her best efforts her drink is drugged. Once she realizes what's happened she calls Sherlock to come get her and then locks herself in the washroom. Sherlock gets there quickly and takes her home and he spends the evening with Molly and her cycles of intoxication until withdrawal, where he gets <i>much</i> closer to her than he ever anticipated in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter Of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine, at the very least, Molly experimented when she was very young and found she didn't like it much, hence the "I've been through this before" thing. An answer to the "Drugs" prompt at **land_deduction** on the Both Shows bingo card.

She didn't go out very much. It wasn't that she didn't like to let her hair down every once in a while, but there was only so much rejection she could take before going out lost its appeal. She'd watch all her prettier or more interesting friends get talked up while she sat at the bar or at a table, nursing her drink and just watching. She'd thought it would be better when she did have someone's attention, but now that she was single again she knew she'd be going through those cycles again and she wasn't looking forward to that. So when a not so unattractive man began chatting her up she was flattered. She let him buy her a drink. She watched the bartender make it and she only turned her back for a second and that must have been when he'd done it. 

She started to feel strange about twenty minutes after she'd drank most of her drink. At first she was terrified she'd been slipped rohypnal but she didn't feel drowsy. She remembered enough from medical school to know that within twenty minutes she'd have been in a state where she was more or less paralyzed but that wasn't the case. But things were definitely becoming more strange. She went to excuse herself and the man didn't want to let her go but she pushed past him and hurried to the washroom. Her hands were shaking as she pulled her mobile out of her purse. She pulled up the first number she could think of, the number of the person she trusted the most. He picked up on the second ring and before he could speak she started talking. “I think I've been drugged,” she said.

“Where are you?” Sherlock asked.

“Up And Up,” she said. “I'm in the washroom. I think he put ecstasy in my drink and I don't have the best reaction to it, especially mixed with alcohol. And there are a few other side effects that I don't remember having the last time.”

“You've used it before?” he asked, and she could tell he was surprised. She didn't need that right now. She needed him to come get her and make sure she was okay from all the unpleasant side effects of the drug she knew she'd ingested and whatever else the bastard had slipped in her drink.

“Yes. Please, just come get me. I don't know what his intentions are but I'm doubting they're good.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes. Twenty-five at most. Stay inside the washroom until I can get to you.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She hung up and went into a stall, sitting on the loo and locking the door. She didn't like this sensation at all. She was having all the unpleasant experiences from the ecstasy plus she was starting to hallucinate. She shut her eyes and tried very hard not to panic. Panicking would do no good, and if she had been dosed with something like LSD on top of it all it would do would be to send her on a very bad trip and no one needed that right now. She lost track of how many people had traipsed in and out of the washroom until she heard someone say that someone else couldn't go in there. She opened the door to her stall and saw Sherlock glaring at a man she presumed to be a bouncer blocking the door. “He's come to get me,” she said quietly.

The man blocking the door turned and looked at her. His eyes widened slightly and she knew she must look horrid. He came into the washroom, Sherlock right behind him. “Bloody hell. Someone drugged you, didn't they?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Ecstasy, at the very least.”

The man turned to Sherlock. “You make sure she gets home, or I'll track you down and give you a beating,” he said gravely.

“Duly noted,” Sherlock said with a nod. Then he looked over at Molly. “Can you stand to be touched?”

“Maybe.” He moved over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. It felt strange, which she knew was the side effect of the drug, but it wasn't uncomfortable. “You can guide me out,” she said.

“Very well.” He moved slightly so his arm was around her shoulders and his hand on the other side and he guided her out of the washroom with the man right behind them. They made it out to the main part of the club and she froze when she saw the man who had bought her the drink. “Molly?” Sherlock asked as the man came closer.

“He did it,” she said quietly.

Sherlock carefully removed his arm from her shoulders and straightened up slightly as the man got closer. “You don't need him, love,” he said, giving her a smile.

“Did you buy her a drink tonight?” Sherlock asked coldly.

“I put an effort into this one,” the man said, glaring at Sherlock. “Go find your own bird.”

“Did. You. Buy. Her. A. Drink.” Sherlock repeated, putting emphasis on each word.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied.

“And did you drug it?” he asked quietly.

“That's none of your business, mate.” He made a move to go to her side but Sherlock blocked him. “Get out of the way.”

“No. If I were you I would walk away right now.”

“Are you going to make me?” the man scoffed. “I was just trying to have a bit of fun. Loosen her up a bit. And I'm not going to let you ruin my fun.”

He moved towards her again but Sherlock wasn't having that. He moved and before anyone knew what he was doing his fist had slammed into the man's face, and the man was down for the count. “Let's get you home,” he said after a moment, shaking his fist before putting his arm around her shoulders again. He guided her around the man and towards the door. Everyone cleared a path for the two of them and soon they were outside. The cold air gave her a much needed snap to the senses. Sherlock hailed them a cab and once it pulled to the side he got her inside and then got in himself. He gave the driver her address and then settled in.

“How do you know where I live?” she asked, quietly.

“I've known for quite some time,” he said quietly. “Tell me exactly what is going on.”

“I'm having visual hallucinations,” she said. “That didn't happen the last time I did ecstasy. But the rest of it did, the nausea and the blurred vision, the tremors and the sweating and the chills. And my muscles hurt.”

“I suspect whatever the methylene-dioxymethamphetamine was cut with is a different hallucinogen than it was the previous time you had used it,” he said. “I've been through its use before. I'll make sure you're taken care of.”

“You've used ecstasy?” she asked.

“And other stimulants and hallucinogens,” he said with a nod. “I've had a very troubled past.”

“Ah,” she said, trying to concentrate on not vomiting all over the place. The nausea was especially bad this time, and she knew tomorrow she was going to feel most decidedly unpleasant. He seemed to realize this so he made no further attempts at conversation. It didn't take long for them to arrive at her flat, and after he paid he got out first before helping her out of the cab. She realized she had left her purse in the taxi and was about to say something but he was already leaning back in and getting it out. “My keys are in there,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I'll dig them out and let us in,” he said as he stood up again. She turned and took a few steps but stumbled slightly and he reached over to steady her, putting an arm around her waist this time until he got her to the door. Then he let go and got her keys out, unlocking the door and letting them in. He kept the door open as he looked for a hallway light, and once he found it he turned it on and then locked the door behind them. “Where is your bedroom?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” she replied.

He looked at her closely. “Do you trust me to carry you up a flight of stairs? I don't think you're steady enough to navigate them on your own.”

“That's fine,” she said with a nod, and then she regretted it a moment later as the nausea hit again. He moved behind her, then knelt down slightly before picking her up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he made his way to the stairs, then up them. She was starting the feel one of the few pleasant effects of ecstasy that she experienced right now and she was cursing herself for it. Being close and being touched was becoming quite the turn-on right now and neither of them needed that complication. “Once we get to my room you shouldn't touch me,” she said as she lifted her head up slightly.

“I'm assuming the arousal state has started,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “It's the only halfway pleasant effect I feel, but right now I want to crawl in a hole and hide.”

“I'll avoid touching you as much as possible, then.” He continued to make his way up the stairs. “Which room is yours?”

“Last one on the left,” she said. He made it to the top of the stairs and she expected him to set her down but he carried her down the darkened hallway until they were outside her bedroom. She was thankful she hadn't shut the door all the way this morning, as he pushed it open with his foot and then stepped inside. She had wide windows and the curtains were open so the room was bathed in moonlight, and he took her to the bed and set her down on it. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Do you want me in the room?” he asked, straightening up.

“Yes. I had a very bad reaction last time and I don't want a repeat of those events.”

“Can you undress yourself?”

She thought about it a moment, and then shook her head slightly. “No, I can't.”

“Do you feel comfortable staying in that dress?” he asked.

“It feels too tight, too binding,” she said.

He was quiet for a minute or so. “Do you trust me to undress you and not attempt to do anything?”

“I do. It's not like you fancy me or anything,” she said. The pause was a lot longer this time. “Sherlock?”

“It's nothing. I'm just trying to figure out how to do this without touching you too much,” he said when he spoke. Her heart sank just a little when it registered he hadn't become quiet because he did actually fancy her. “Stand up and take two steps away from the bed. Where are your pyjamas?”

“I usually sleep in sleep shorts and a camisole top. I didn't bother to pick them up off the floor before I went to work today because I was in a rush. They're on the other side of the bed.” She stood up and took two wobbly steps forward as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He came back around a few minutes later carrying the clothes she slept in.

He set them on the bed and then moved around her, lifting his hand up and brushing the back of her neck lightly as he pulled her hair out of the way. He went for her zipper once it was to the side and she shivered slightly, shutting her eyes and trying not to show the fact that that felt quite good. He lowered the zipper and then gently pushed the straps off her shoulders. After a moment the dress had fallen to her waist, and he pushed it down over her hips until it pooled on the floor. He made no attempt to remove her bra, which she was grateful for even though she knew it was going to be uncomfortable to sleep in. “Lift your arms above your head,” he said. She lifted her arms up and he reached over onto the bed for the camisole top. He checked to make sure he was putting it on the right way and then he put it on over her head. His fingers brushed her arms as he pulled it down, and then once it was settled on her shoulders he pulled the top down, his fingers occasionally brushing bare skin as he pulled it down to cover her breasts and stomach. “You aren't uncomfortable, are you?” he asked.

“Very aroused right now, which is making me slightly uncomfortable,” she admitted.

“I'm trying not to.”

“You can't help it. Let's just get the sleep shorts on so I can lay down before I fall over.”

He nodded, then moved over to the bed again and picked up her bottoms. He held them in front of her, then grasped one leg and moved her leg into the shorts on the correct side. He repeated his actions with the other side, careful to keep her steady, and then he pulled them up until the waistband of the bottoms was where it should be. “Lay down now,” he said.

“All right,” she said. She took the few steps back to her bed and then laid down on top of her quilt, her back on the mattress. Sherlock looked at the bed for a moment, and then she moved her legs with great effort and he sat down by her legs. “I'm sorry to make you do all this,” she said after he got settled. “I just didn't know who else to call.”

“I doubt the rest of your friends have experience with this,” he said, and she could see the ghost of a smile on his face in the moonlight.

“I didn't know you did, though. I just knew I could trust you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Why didn't you call Tom?” he asked.

“We aren't together anymore. Haven't been for a little while,” she said quietly. “I'm honestly surprised your girlfriend let you out of her sight long enough to come get me, much less stay here for a time.”

This time the pause was much longer. “I may appear to be dating her, but it's an act. I'm using her to get to someone important.”

“Does she know she's being used?” she asked, slightly surprised.

“If she knew then it wouldn't work,” he said. “You can't tell anyone, though. I have to keep pretending, and I don't know for how long.”

“Does she care about you?” she asked quietly.

“I don't know. I don't think she does, not nearly as much as she should. I wouldn't be surprised if she's using me just as much.”

“For different reasons, though.” She shut her eyes in hopes the visual hallucinations would stop. “Look at the pair of us. I'm pathetic and lonely and you're in a relationship that you really don't want to be in.”

“You are not pathetic,” he replied.

“I was so flattered by a man's attention I didn't pay enough attention and he drugged my drink,” she pointed out. “If that isn't pathetic I don't know what is.”

“You may have been pathetic before but you aren't now. There are men who look at you and see a very strong and kind woman, someone who is loyal and good. Someone who is worth caring about. Someone who is worth being in love with.”

“Can you introduce me to one of those men?”

“One of them is at the foot of your bed right now,” he said quietly.

She opened her eyes and studied him. Even with the effects of the drug wreaking havoc with her senses she could see he was looking at her quite intently. “Sherlock...”

“This is perhaps a conversation best had when you're sober,” he replied.

She nodded slightly after a moment. “All right.”

“Are the unpleasant side effects still there?”

“They aren't as bad now that I'm flat on my back and don't have to worry about being jostled. And if I keep my eyes shut the visual hallucinations aren't there.”

“Do you think you'll go to sleep soon?”

“Stimulant, remember? I think I'm in for a long night.” She sighed. “As much as I'd prefer if you'd stay you don't have to.”

“I would be a horrible friend if I left you right now. I'll stay until you fall asleep, and if I can I'll stay until you awaken. If I can't I'll call you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” She was quiet for quite a while, and he let them lapse into a comfortable silence. Finally she spoke again. “I know I said it made me uncomfortable earlier, but I was wondering if you would...” She didn't finish the sentence because in her head she was already starting to regret even asking. But after a moment she felt his fingertips brush against her bare skin on her leg. Nothing would come of this tonight. Nothing would come of it probably ever, but tonight she wanted to be touched and he was obliging and it was pleasurable. She relaxed into the bed as he began to trace shapes and letters on her skin and she let herself be lost in the sensations.

After a very long while he stopped. “Was that enough?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” she opened up her eyes again and she found the hallucinations were less vivid, less real. “If you want you can lay down next to me, try and get some rest.”

“I don't sleep much,” he said.

“Still, it would probably be more comfortable than sitting by my legs.” She watched him think about it for a moment and then he got off the bed and moved around to the other side. He laid down on top of the quilt as well. She moved her hand slightly until her fingers brushed his, just so she could feel he was close. “Let's talk. Let's talk until I start to feel tired.”

“All right,” he said, shifting his hand so he could hold hers. He began to talk, and they spoke of many things. It almost seemed as if this was the most deeply personal conversation they'd ever had. She learned more about him in the few hours before she finally fell asleep than she had known in all the years she had known him before. And before she knew it she was about to drop from exhaustion, and so she quietly tapered off her train of thought and allowed herself to slip into sleep.

She woke up to bright sunlight on her face and an arm around her waist. She could feel his face pressed into the back of her neck. She shifted slightly to get comfortable as her muscles ached from being tense, but all he did was tighten his hold around her waist. He was still sound asleep, she realized. For now she could savor this, savor the feel of the man she had really wanted the whole time she'd been with Tom holding her close. It wasn't going to last nearly long enough, but for now she had it and that was enough.

She didn't know how long they were like this before he began to pull away. When he let her go she rolled over to face him. He opened his eyes, blinking slightly at the bright light, and then he frowned. “I shouldn't have done that,” he said quietly.

“It's all right,” she said. “It was nice.”

He looked at her, and she thought he was trying to gather his thoughts. “When my ruse is finished, when it's all over and I'm alone again, we should talk,” he said. “About where we stand with things.”

She nodded slightly. “All right.”

He hesitated a moment, as though he didn't want to leave this room, leave this bed, and then he sat up. “I should leave you now, go back home.”

“I don't want you to go, you know,” she said quietly. “If it was at all possible I would like it very much if you stayed.”

“If it was at all possible I wouldn't leave,” he admitted. “But right now I probably should. Right now I'm not free to do what I would prefer.”

“So you do fancy me?” she asked as she sat up, looking at him intently.

“I do,” he said with a nod. “But I have to act like I don't.”

“I understand.” She reached over and touched his face gently, just a brushing of fingertips on his cheek. He shut his eyes at that and only opened them again when her hand moved away. “When you can, just know I would like to kiss you very much.”

He gave her a slight smile. “I'll remember that.” He got up off the bed and then straightened his clothes. “I will speak to you later, Molly.”

“All right,” she said as she nodded. “Thank you, once again.”

“You're very welcome,” he said. With that he turned and left her bedroom. She watched him go, and after a moment she laid back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She could be patient. She could wait. After all, this time she had something worth waiting for.


End file.
